The Green-Eyed Monster
by Flaminea
Summary: Always in the shadow of his seemingly perfect sister, Vivianne Hawke, Carver goes to unspeakable lenghts in a effort to feel even with her.


_This story is my contribution to the May Monthly Minor character: Carver._

 _The Hawke named here, Vivianne Hawke, is the same appearing in my stories "Resentment" and "All That Remains", but this one-shot is meant as an... AU from the events happened during those narration arcs. Carver never did there... what he does here._

 _I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

 _ **The Green-Eyed Monster**_

 _Envy, after all, comes from wanting something that isn't yours. But grief comes from losing something you've already had._

 _(Jodi Picoult)_

It all started in Lothering. Even before the blighted monsters, even before our desperate escape.

I remember our life in Lothering, sister. Our shack, a world where everything was steady, frozen in time, but also balanced. Even then, I envied you. Your cheerful soul, your laughter, your talent in charm everyone you met. Even then, I was jealous of the way our mother trusted us, of how father was constantly focused on you and Beth. You, a human being plagued by the sin of magic, were the shining star of our family, I was the brooding boy too focused on his dreams to take part in our family's life. But despite that, you were the only one to actually listen to me. Have I ever told you how much I hated you for that?

Then came the Blight.

Whispers had warned us beforehand, but I had refused to listen. There, in Lothering, I was only the brooding boy, yes, but even your charm could never take you anywhere further than our village. Just like me, you were bound on remaining a girl like any other. There could be no heroes in Lothering.

The moment we left our house, you took the reins of our family. Ever since their first steps out of Lothering, our mother and Beth hung off your words. Your advice was gold. And I was asked to remain in your shadow even more than I already had.

There have been times I hoped you died on the road, sister. I'm afraid that desire of mine was twisted into Beth's death instead. Many times I have asked forgiveness since. Many times the Maker answered me with nothing more than silence. Had been the circumstances different, maybe my guilt would have stopped my hand many years later.

When mother blamed you for Beth's death, I gloated. I smiled, and laughed and laughed until I lost my breath. You never heard me, because I did it in my mind.

Knowing you were vulnerable, I chose the moments immediately after your fight with mother to spill my anger, my frustration, my need to be seen, to be valued by _you_. But once again you bested me, you agreed that Beth's death was your fault, that you should have taken better care of her. Have I ever told you how much I hated you for that?

In Kirkwall, even your liability, your sin… your power, became something precious, to be proud of. None of Athenril's employee was faster than me with a blade in his hands, but your magic outdid my merits every single time. No matter how much I trained, Athenril always praised you first. Me, second. No matter what I could do, no matter what I could say.

As incredible as it may seem, I could still save her and myself at this point.

But despite all your charms, sister, _you_ are the one who put my crime in motion.

Your first mistake was to leave me back in Lowtown instead of taking me with you in the Deep Roads. I had earned that right, and you knew that. A couple of words from our mother have been enough to make you reconsider, to make you think that, after all, you could replace my blade with the one of your precious lyrium elf.

Your kind heart has always been your weakness, sister.

Your second mistake was to oppose my decision to join the Templars of Kirkwall. _'Thank the Maker! Talk some sense into him,'_ mother said. You may not believe me, sister, but I was still willing to believe that you could back me up, that the reason why you left me behind had been mother's plea. Instead, that day you showed me another weakness of yours: your individualism. You didn't ask why I had made that choice, you preferred pointing that you were an apostate. And. I swear to you, I was so relieved to see that you were not that perfect being everyone saw watching at you that I tried being honest with you. I bared my heart to you, I spoke of my need to be someone worthy, I told you the Order was my chance. But you, the ultimate chatterbox, didn't say a word. The only time in my life I truly needed to hear your opinion, you had none. Walking out uncle Gamlen's door, away from your shadow and Mother's habit of treating me like a child, was almost a blessing.

I found a purpose, in the Order. I found friends. And perhaps one day I could find a fine girl too, one better than Peaches and Isabela.

If only the expedition hadn't been so successful. If only our family didn't own a mansion, all thanks to you—you stripped me of that merit, remember?—if only you hadn't been named Champion.

Templars are the beating heart of Kirkwall. I was the law, thus, I was sure you couldn't outdo me.

And yet once again you managed to become something more than me. Champion of Kirkwall, savior against the Qunari invaders, the voice against the Knight-Commander, the peacemaker each time she and the First Enchanter quarreled. _You_ , a mage. _You_ , a creature marked by sin.

That has been the point of no return. Years and years in your shade, always suppressed by your laugh, your smile, your mere presence finally took their toll.

I had to depose you. I had to crush your reign.

Until the end, I hoped my disgust for Quentin's goals and corrupted soul was stronger than my need for recognition.

It wasn't.

I didn't move a finger when I saw him approaching our mother. I didn't report his crimson activities to the Order.

My only chance to depose you was to break you, to take away from you the last of our family. So I did.

Now, we are finally even, sister. Now we share the same grief, now you're as broken as I have always been.

I don't envy you anymore. I'm not jealous of mother's unconditional trust in you anymore.


End file.
